


Since We've No Place To Go

by Nny



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21973333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny
Summary: “Sorry you’re stuck with me,” Clint said, “but if Christmases past are any indication Tony’s gonna make sure to make up for it.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 31
Kudos: 267
Collections: Winterhawk Wonderland





	Since We've No Place To Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avengersincamphalfbloodstardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersincamphalfbloodstardis/gifts).



> A last minute pinch hit, meeting the prompt 'Clint and Bucky get snowed in somewhere'. Not quite what you asked for, but I hope it will suffice!

Clint was assuming this was punishment for something, but honestly there was always a lot to pick from. He’d been too busy leaving it to the last possible minute to say goodbye to Lucky - Kate had him over the holidays, so he expected to come to his apartment and find no alcohol and a few more throw pillows, which was overall a win - to pay attention to the bidding war going on. By the time he was ready to read through the backlog of the WhatsApp chat there was no point because he’d missed the whole vicious backstabbing argument, the promises of favours and goods exchanges and weaponry. He sighed and skipped to the end, where Sam had helpfully listed off the arrangements. 

Tony had persuaded them all to go for a Christmas vacation in a cabin he had up in the Catskills, which Clint assumed to mean that it only had seven bars and two hot tubs. They were convoying out there; Bruce had made them all copies of a soothing Christmas mixtape.

Sam was going in the Bugatti with Natasha; Tony was riding on the back of Steve’s bike; Pepper, Vision and Wanda were being driven by Happy in a truly ostentatious limousine. Scott had sent a selfie from the back of T’Challa’s obscenely luxurious private jet, thumbs up and Santa hat between two unsmiling Dora Milaje. T’Challa himself was flying down in a quinjet with Rhodey, and somehow that had left Clint in the Volkswagen Bug that Sam had hunted down and shipped back from Germany. 

And apparently he was riding with Bucky. 

“Wow, you really lucked out on the vehicle assignments, huh?” he said, his voice echoing in the parking lot hidden away under Stark tower. Bucky pushed himself upright and Clint groaned - he’d been hoping it was a perspective thing, but apparently the car really was just that goddamn small. 

“You talked to Natasha?” Bucky said, borderline belligerent, and Clint shrugged. 

“When would I have had time?” They were talking across the roof of the car, ‘cos they could do that, because apparently Europe was full of hobbits. “It’s pretty obvious you lost hard, that’s all.” 

“Sure,” Bucky said, grabbing the keys off the roof and flinging them towards Clint’s face. “That’s what happened. You’re driving.” 

“Sam doesn’t trust you with his baby, huh?” Clint said, taking a second to realise that this thing was old enough that he couldn’t just press a button, he had to actually unlock it. He got in, his knees up around his ears, and he occupied himself trying to slide the seat far enough back that he could actually use the pedals. When he’d finally got himself sorted he glanced over to find that Bucky was watching him judgmentally through the window, his hair falling forward around his face. Clint flushed a little and reached over, unlocking the door and then almost swallowing his tongue as Bucky climbed inside. 

He’d already registered the Christmas-red woolen sweater, because it was rare to see Bucky in that much colour. What he hadn’t seen - what he now couldn’t stop looking at, in all their glory - were the skinny black jeans that clung to Bucky’s thighs the way Clint had wanted to pretty much since the guy had moved into the tower. 

He swallowed hard and focused all his attention on adjusting the rear view mirror, waiting until Bucky had stopped shifting around in his seat before he figured it was safe to look back. 

“Sorry you’re stuck with me,” he said, “but if Christmases past are any indication Tony’s gonna make sure to make up for it.”

Bucky turned his head against the headrest, looking over at Clint with his gray eyes a little narrowed. He didn’t say anything right away, just looked at Clint with an inscrutable expression on his face. Clint started the car, the engine protesting a little as it turned over, and pulled out of the garage. The sky outside was the same bright gray as Bucky’s eyes, and Clint turned on the wipers as the first few flakes of snow fell. 

The traffic in the city was pretty appalling, which made sense for the time of year. Clint put on Bruce’s mixtape, singing along cheerfully and maybe a little tunelessly, drumming on the steering wheel in time. 

“Y’know,” Clint said eventually, switching on the headlights as the snow grew heavier, “anyone else would’ve killed me by now. Or at least taped my mouth shut.” 

“You don’t always have to apologise for yourself,” Bucky said, when Clint had almost forgotten what they were talking about. It was an unexpected jolt of warmth in his stomach, and he sent a helpless grin at Bucky, whose mouth curved a little in response before he pointedly turned away and looked out of the window. 

They passed a couple of hours with easy chatting. Bucky had been reticent when he’d first come to the tower, and Clint knew that some people still found him to be a little close-mouthed. He’d always talked to Clint, though, starting off with surprisingly vicious competition on the range, and now shooting the shit about just about anyone and anything. Bucky’d pretty quickly become Clint’s favourite person to talk to besides Natasha, became the person he thought of first anytime he had anything interesting to share, and it’d been a long time since he’d stopped denying what that had to mean. 

It was tough, though, making a move if you weren’t certain about the other person’s feelings, and Clint didn’t want to lose the friendship they’d built. 

“Not far now,” Clint said finally, taking a right after squinting at road signs through the lowering dark. “Just a little further and we can join the party Sorry you got such a bum deal with the travel arrangements.” 

Bucky turned to him, opened his mouth as though he was going to speak. As though Clint’s words were some kinda curse, though, the Bug’s engine made a sputtering noise, stalling and almost stopping all together. Clint steered it onto the shoulder as it choked, pulling up a little haphazardly when the engine finally died. 

He tried the ignition a few times, the hoarse chugging of the engine failing to catch. 

“Shit, sorry,” Clint said, “I guess you’re gonna have to put up with me a little longer.”

Bucky mumbled something, his shoulders tense, and Clint cupped a hand behind his ear. 

“Sorry, man, you’re gonna have to speak up,” he said, casting a quick glance at Bucky and unexpectedly catching him looking back. 

“I said,” Bucky said, louder this time, colour bleeding into his cheeks until he was almost the same colour as his shirt, “that I won the bidding.” 

“You picked this car? Over the _Bugatti_?” 

“I picked _you_.” 

Clint’s mouth fell open, but no words helpfully fell out of it. Bucky squirmed under his incredulous stare. 

“What.” Clint’s voice was flat, because it was like his brain had fuzzed out, loud static blanking out all of his thoughts, TV snow to match what was falling outside.

“I ended up with the goddamn VW Bug because Natasha is a shark,” Bucky said, his voice low and kind of intense and fast like he just wanted to get through this as quickly and painlessly as possible. “She knows exactly how much she could push for if I got to ride with you.” He made a face. “I’m gonna miss those throwing knives, too.” 

“I don’t -” 

Bucky let out a long breath. “You’re about the best thing going for this century,” he said, the warmth in his voice making Clint’s breath catch slightly in his throat. “Spending time with you makes every day a little better, and I wanted to ask -” Clint watched as Bucky pushed a hand through his hair, finding it hard to believe that this was happening, harder still to understand why Bucky was so hesitant. “I don’t want to make this awkward,” Bucky said. “I know I ain’t exactly a prize -” 

Clint cut him off, lunging forward across the gearshift and pressing his mouth to Bucky’s, lifting one hand to tangle into his hair. 

It was a Hollywood sort of kiss, swelling strings and crooning vocals, and it took him a second to realise that he’d elbowed the tape deck and turned on the music again. He couldn’t help grinning against Bucky’s lips as Sinatra encouraged the goddamned awful weather, the windshield smothered in white now. It reduced the world to just here, just this, and as Bucky opened his mouth to Clint’s, that felt just about perfect to him. He lost himself for what felt like forever in the heat of Bucky’s mouth, then almost jumped out of his skin as someone knocked on the window behind him. 

“You guys okay?” Steve’s voice called, a little muffled on account of the snow. Bucky swore, kinda smothered by the way Clint was refusing to quite pull away, pressing a few more kisses to Bucky’s mouth before he sighed and turned to shove open his door. 

“Yes?” he said, testily. Steve blinked down at him. 

“You know the cabin’s just up the road, right?” he said. “Tony was tracking you with the GPS ‘cos he didn’t think the Bug was going to make it through the snow.” 

“Guess he was right,” Clint said, and made to pull the door shut again. 

“Are you not coming?” Steve asked, bewildered, and Bucky leaned forward across Clint, bracing his hand on Clint’s thigh, which made Clint hiss out a breath. 

“Not while you’re standing there, anyway,” he muttered, and Bucky snorted in his ear.

“We’ll be there in a bit,” Bucky said, and Clint nodded, his eyes kinda fixed on the way Bucky’s mouth looked a little red. “Run along, Stevie.” 

“But the weather’s getting worse,” Steve said, sounding a little helpless, “you guys will end up getting trapped.” Clint spared him a glance and grinned. 

“Y’know what?” he said, catching Bucky’s eye and biting his lip, loving the flare of heat he saw in return. “I’m good with letting it snow.” 


End file.
